


I Lay My Life Before You

by Sokkas_First_Fangirl



Series: I Lay My Life Before You [1]
Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Alpha Brian, Alpha Jim, Alpha Roger, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Beta John, Don't copy to another site, Fertility Issues, Fluff and Angst, Freddie and Jim are the romance of a life time, Freddie is a god damn delight and must be protected, How Do I Tag, Hurt/Comfort, I promise this ends well, M/M, Male Friendship, Miscarriage, Omega Freddie, Other, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Roger will fight you, Team as Family, The Author Regrets Nothing, it's minor but it's there, protective roger, with Paul what do you expect?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-19
Updated: 2019-01-19
Packaged: 2019-10-12 20:34:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17474543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sokkas_First_Fangirl/pseuds/Sokkas_First_Fangirl
Summary: "Roger knelt there, holding his best friend tightly to his chest. He breathed in the scent of flowers and spices, his shoulder was soaked by Freddie’s tears and he made a decision. Gently, he pulled back and cupped Freddie’s face in his hands, looking him right in the eye.“No matter what happens,” he swore. “No matter what comes our way, I won’t leave you. I’ll never let anyone hurt you; we’re family and I swear, Freddie, I’ll protect you.”"Roger once made a promise to himself: protect Freddie Mercury. Over the years he's never quite felt like he's lived up to it. However if you asked Freddie, he'd tell you a different story.A study in the unbreakable bond between one Roger Taylor and one Freddie Mercury over the years.





	I Lay My Life Before You

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of this fic certain events (i.e, the Zanzibar Revolution) have been moved around. This fic is a weird blend of real life and the Bohemian Rhapsody movie.  
> I'm a secret sucker for Omegaverse and a well known sucker for Roger and Freddie's friendship, so I suppose it was only a matter of time until this happened. Personally, I pictured the BoRhap actors when writing this, but feel free to imagine whoever you want.
> 
> "Bāḷaka" according to Google, means "baby" in Gujarati. If I'm wrong, please let me know!

**_Like reflections in your mind, my love, my life are the words I try to find, my love, my life. But I know I don’t possess you, with all my heart God bless you…” - My Love, My Life,_ ** **ABBA**

  


**November 16th 1987, London, England**

 

_Roger knew it wasn’t fair to want to rage against Jim for not being here: the baby wasn’t due for another month, none of them could have predicted this. In fact, Jim had been reluctant to go at all, only going when Freddie all but pushed him out of the house, reminding him that it was his niece’s wedding and he should be there. The baby wasn’t due for another month. He’d be fine._

 

_Shows what they know._

 

_A whole month early and the baby decided she was ready to come now. They had just finished recording for the day when Freddie doubled over with a groan. Water pooled on the floor and he’d looked at them with wide, frightened eyes. “But it’s too early!” he’d gasped as if that would stop it._

 

 _“Try telling her that, Fred,” Brian said. Rational and level-headed as always, even as he’d gone pale, he’d been the one to bundle them all down to Roger’s car, briskly telling Miami to call Jim_ now.

 

_Roger had driven like a madman. In the back of the car, Deacy held onto Freddie, murmuring words of comfort. Brian had coaxed Freddie through his breathing exercises, voice low and soothing as he said, “It’s okay Freddie, it’ll be fine, she’ll be okay.” Though he couldn’t promise that. None of them could and Freddie knew it; Roger could see it in his eyes, all the years of watching his friends have children and thinking he’d never have even one. All the times he’d been given a false alarm- and that one fatal miscarriage, the miscarriage that Roger feared would break his best friend forever. Freddie, who was so brave, who had fought for his place in the world, one of the first singers to disregard suppressants and proudly stand on stage as an Omega._

 

_All Roger had ever wanted was to protect him. But for years, he couldn’t, not when it mattered. Not when Freddie quietly admitted one drunken night, “I don’t think I can have kids.” Not when Paul Prenter thought he could law claim to Freddie. Not when he miscarried and oh, that one had hurt the most. The aftermath, the long silences, the way an ashen faced Peter Freestone had opened the door and said, “He doesn’t want to see anyone.”_

 

_And Roger couldn’t protect him now. He had insisted on going into the delivery room with Freddie, telling the doctors and midwives that he would be there in Jim’s place. The midwife had gently taken Freddie by the arm with a,“Come on now, lovie, let’s get you sorted,” and Freddie had looked back at him, silently pleading and Roger stomped forward to take his free hand. Because if Jim couldn’t be here, Roger would be. If Jim couldn’t be here to hold Freddie’s hand, Roger would._

 

 _He had to be brave too. But God, he was so scared too. He’d never seen Freddie scream like he was screaming now. Dominique hadn’t screamed like this, he could remember the birth of his children with crystal clear clarity and none of them had been this difficult. The doctors hadn’t looked so worried, all while pretending they weren’t. Dominique hadn’t laid back, defeated, and sobbed, “I_ can’t, _I can’t do it, Roggie.”_

 

 _“You can,” Roger told him firmly. “I_ know _you can, Freddie. You can do anything.”_   
_  
“Nearly there, honey!” the midwife proclaimed. “I can see her head.”_

 

 _One last push and the baby was here. One last push and she arrived in a great rush of blood. Too much blood, far too much blood. Freddie started to seize, gasping for breath, his hand clenching in Roger’s and the next thing Roger knew alarms were blaring and he was being torn away from his best friend; his best friend who was bleeding and gasping for breath, his best friend who was far too pale and_ bleeding, _bleeding everywhere, didn’t they understand that he had to_ stay? _Didn’t they understand that he had promised himself way back in the 70s to protect Freddie Mercury? Didn’t they_ understand?

 

 _He was torn away, kicking and screaming, all of his Alpha instincts screaming at him to_ stay, _to look after his pack._   
  
_“Freddie! FREDDIE!”_   
_  
_ _They slammed the door in his face, leaving him in the corridor. He turned to see Brian and Deacy gaping at him. Deacy looked at him like he was looking_ through _him, like he wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at. Brian shook his head, preparing to deny what was right in front of him, preparing to deny all the noises they could hear through the door. More doctors came running, disappearing into Freddie’s room. They could distantly hear the baby crying, a weak, mewling cry that grew in strength until it was all Roger could hear._

 

_His mind went through the worst case scenarios; Freddie and the baby dying. Freddie dying but the baby living. Freddie living, but the baby dying._

 

_If that happened, Roger knew, Freddie would never recover. One way or another, he’d still lose his best friend._

 

_“What happened?” Deacy asked. He was starting to shake, tears gathering in his eyes._

 

_“I don’t know,” Roger said honestly. All he could think of was Freddie bleeding and dying, slipping away without his friends by his side, surrounded by strangers and never getting to hold his baby. Surely the world wasn’t that cruel?_

 

 _He couldn’t take it anymore. His mind kept replaying what had happened and he just_ couldn’t handle it.

 

_Roger collapsed to his knees, sobbing his heart out._

 

**Stone Town, Zanzibar, 1964**

**_“See the light as it shines on the sea? It’s blinding. But no one knows how deep it goes. And it seems like it’s calling out to me so come find me and let me know what’s beyond that line, will I cross that line?” -How Far I’ll Go,_ ** **Auli’i Cravalho**

Farrokh “Freddie” Bulsara was something of an oddity in his family. He was an Omega in a family of Betas and Alphas and they never seemed sure of what to do with him. Whether it was his parents or his extended family in India, none of them ever seemed to know how to handle him.

They were a traditional family; they expected Omegas to be delicate, to speak only when spoken to and to be obedient and modest. Freddie was anything but. He wouldn’t call himself a rebel by any means, he just...did what he felt like doing. Alphas and Betas were the same, they did what they wanted, so why should he act like a human doll?

He broke curfew, he snuck out at odd hours of the night and morning, frequently fleeing to the local beach. He’d walk all alone, kicking his way through the sand and surf, shoes in his hands and happily imagining the day he could see something _more_ of the world. Happily imagining the day where he could go where he wanted, whenever he wanted; imagining the day he could do and say what he wanted without being told to _“Hush, child!”_ or being told to remember his place. He’d look out at the horizon and think he’d like to see England, France, America, Japan...Anywhere and everywhere.

His family had different ideas. His paternal grandfather had a quiet word with his parents about “that wild, unruly little thing” and one day, in early February, Freddie came home to find his parents waiting for him in the living room. Kashmira was nowhere to be seen.

“Sit down, Farrokh,” his father, Bomi said, gesturing to the armchair. Suspicion mounting, Freddie sat. He sat and listened with growing horror and anger as his father explained what was going on.

“Your grandfather and I have been talking and we came to an agreement. He has arranged a marriage for you.”

“What?” Freddie gasped. His eyes went to his mother. “Mama?”

Jer looked at him steadily, a little sadly. “It’s for the best, _Bāḷaka,_ ” she said softly. “You need someone to look after you.”

“Someone to keep me in line, you mean,” Freddie spat, bitter and hurt and more angry than he had expected. “Dream on. You can’t make me marry anyone!”

“Be reasonable, Farrokh,” Bomi said tiredly. “You have to settle down sometime. Now, will you listen to me?”  
  
“No.” Freddie stood. “I’m not listening to any of this! You can arrange whatever you want, but don’t think for one second that you’ll get me down the aisle!” And he ran, ignoring his mother calling his name, blood pounding in his ears. Marry a total stranger? No, never. They couldn’t make him, they could _never_ make him! He’d rather die, he decided as he ran to the beach, than give himself to a stranger for life. How could they spring this on him? And _why?_ Because he wasn’t perfectly obedient? Because he spoke his mind and did what he pleased? Because he was an Omega?   
  
Maybe it should have made him embarrassed to be an Omega, like so many before him. But no. As he kicked his shoes off and stood in the water, it wasn’t shame that grew in him, but determination. He would prove them wrong. He would prove them _all_ wrong and show them that an Omega was as good as any Alpha or Beta. One of these days the world would know his name. Nothing would ever stop him from making music, no matter what life threw his way; the world would know his name and love it.

But of course, his opinion was ignored. His “fiance” one Dazmen Yazadi, arrived at the end of the month.

  
  
  


He was quite handsome, with a quiet dignified air about him. Twenty-three years old, the grandson of a family friend. A well-off family friend at that. Freddie knew all too well that he was expected to be grateful, but he wasn’t, not even close. He was still furious. As Dazmen smiled down at him and said, “Hello, Farrokh,” Freddie wanted to kick him out of the house. For once the sound of his birth name didn’t make him want to snap, “It’s _Freddie!_ ” because he realised he didn’t want this man to call him by his chosen name, he didn’t want Dazmen to call him _anything._

Thank God the man seemed to know how to read the room; he left after dinner, going back to his hotel. Freddie had remained silent, barely deigning to answer any of his questions- and the ones he did answer, he answered only with “Hm” and non-committal grunts. Maybe it wasn’t fair. For all he knew Dazmen was a lovely person. But still, that wasn’t enough to make Freddie sign himself away.

His father had railed at him furiously for his lack of manners and Freddie had felt hopeful that it might be enough to send Dazmen back to Bombay- but no. He turned up to the Bulsara household early the next morning, clutching a small bunch of freesias. Freddie wondered if someone had told him they were one of his favourites.

“I was hoping we could take a walk?” Dazmen smiled hopefully. “I haven’t seen the beach yet.” Someone had _totally_ grilled him on Freddie’s pastimes. He was about to snap, _“No,”_ when his mother appeared at his side, holding his shoes.

“A walk sounds lovely,” she said with a smile. “I’ll come along.” Of course. His family were also of the opinion that an Alpha and Omega should not be left alone together before marriage.

Which was how Freddie found himself walking along the beach with Dazmen, his mother keeping a respectful distance behind them.

“You don’t want this marriage, do you?” Dazmen asked softly and Freddie looked at him with surprise. He didn’t seem angry, just vaguely disappointed.

“No,” he said bluntly, honestly, as he always did. “I don’t.”  


“Well I hope I can change your mind,” Dazmen grinned down at him. “You’re...You’re beautiful, Farrokh.”

That was a first.

He wasn’t even eighteen yet, he couldn’t help but grin a little, his hand flying up to cover his teeth.

And suddenly, Dazmen was frowning.

“What?” Freddie asked.

“It’s just…” the Alpha shook his head. “We’ll have to do something about your teeth.”

That settled it really.

Freddie turned furious eyes upon him. “No,” he said firmly. “If I mess with my teeth it might ruin my singing.”

“Your singing?”

“Yes, my singing. I want to be a singer.”

Dazmen shook his head, smiling mildly. “Don’t be silly,” he said. “An Omega’s job is to stay at home. You’ll be too busy looking after our children to be chasing after dreams, Farrokh. So many people want to be singers.”

“So many people aren’t _me._ ” Freddie turned his nose up in the air and marched away. “And you needn’t think I’m having your children, Dazmen. Because I can tell you this, you won’t have me.”

It would be noted in later years how Freddie called everyone by an endearment: darling, dear, honey, sweetheart, dearest, my love. But not once did he call Dazmen an endearment of any sort. Over the coming weeks, despite Dazmen coming over every day, he didn’t thaw. He stayed aloof and angry.

“At least _try_ to make the best of things,” Bomi said tiredly. But how could he? How could he ever love someone who expected him to give up on his dreams? How could he ever be with someone who wanted to change him?

He couldn’t.

Dazmen went home at the end of the month. He tried to kiss Freddie’s hand at the airport, but he pulled away, lips pulled back in a sneer, showing off the teeth Dazmen hated so much, the teeth Freddie hated and yet would keep, because if fixing them meant losing his voice he’d rather keep his voice every time.

“I’ll see you in September,” Dazmen said. “And I’ll write to you- or call if you prefer.”  
  
“Neither,” Freddie said coldly.

Dazmen wouldn’t know where to write to anyway.

Because that night, Freddie packed a small suitcase and his old school bag with clothes and money. He snuck into the living room and took his passport from the drawer where all the bills and spare keys were also kept. He left a note on the kitchen table. He snuck into Kashmira’s room and left a second note for her on her chest of drawers. His little sister didn’t even stir as he kissed her cheek.

And just like that, he was gone.

Goodbye Zanzibar, hello England. Goodbye Stone Town, hello London. Goodbye Farrokh Bulsara, hello Freddie Bulsara.

  
  
  
  


**London, England, 1970** **  
** **_“I was told a million times of all the people in my way, how I had to keep on trying and get better every day. But if I crossed a million rivers and I rode a million miles then I’d still be where I started, same as where I started.” -Keep Yourself Alive,_ ** **Queen**

Freddie fought hard for his place in the world. He stayed in an Omega boarding house when he first arrived before managing to find a place of his own; it was tiny, dark and half the time the heat didn’t work, but it was _his._ He fought against anyone who thought an Omega shouldn’t live alone, anyone who thought that art wasn’t a good college course, fought against anyone who sneered at his teeth, his skin, his clothing style.

He fought against anyone who thought an Omega wouldn’t make a good frontman.

He’d been to so many auditions he lost count, but the answer was always the same: he was good, but he’d better take some suppressants. No? Oh well, thank you for coming.

Maybe it was stupid to be so stubborn, but he had a point to prove; he’d manage by himself, _as_ himself. He wouldn’t change for _anyone._

All the same, it was hard to stay optimistic all the time.

He had college and two jobs; bar work at night, cashier at the weekend. Was it any wonder he was exhausted? Surely he was allowed to mope a little. More than a little. He didn’t feel like himself at all recently. Even his manager at the bar, Collin, had commented that he seemed down.

Then _Smile_ came along.

A band of three Alphas (that was a surprise. He wondered how often their egos clashed), a college band, all of them were a little younger than Freddie himself if he had to guess. Brian May on guitar, Roger Taylor on drums and Tim Staffel as bass player and singer.

They were _brilliant._

They had a regular set up at the bar and their music made the evening pass faster, pulled Freddie out of his funk, even if it was just for a little while.

_Keep Yourself Alive_ became something of an anthem, something to sing to himself when he felt low; when hope wavered, that song was something to cling to.

_“Honey, you’ll survive.”_ And he would. No matter what, he _would._

  
  
  


Roger was close to strangling someone. Preferably Tim.

“ _Humpy Bong?_ Are you _joking!?_ ”

“Don’t do it, Tim,” Brian pled.

But Tim only shook his head. “Look guys, they’re _good,_ they’re going places. This? This isn’t going anywhere.” He picked up his bass and gave them another rueful smile. “I’ve got to give it a go.” And just like that, their bass player and singer, their _friend_ was gone without a backwards glance.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Roger snarled. His temper flared and he wanted nothing more than to run after Tim and kick his ass, to rage at him and call him an utter bastard and an idiot- but he stayed frozen, because it was still _Tim,_ still one of his best friends.

But not anymore.

“Bloody hell.” Brian ran a hand through his hair, suddenly looking exhausted. “ _Humpy Bong?_ Just...of all bloody things…”   
  
“Well that show _was_ a load of bollocks.” He lightly kicked the wall. “Hardly anyone was paying attention.” _And,_ the bitchy part of him added, _Tim was way out of tune._

He went to grab his cigarettes from his jacket, only to stop when he realised said jacket wasn’t lying on top of his drums like usual. He’d left it in the bar. “Fuck’s sake,” he muttered and turned to Brian. “Be right back,” he said and went to the back door. Thankfully the manager, Collin, usually let them hang around for a few drinks, even after closing. They brought in lots of college kids looking to get wasted- good for business.

He’d only wanted to grab his jacket and keep out of the staff’s way, but that plan quickly changed when he got inside. Someone was singing. Someone was singing one of their songs in the most beautiful voice Roger had ever heard.

_“Keep yourself alive, keep yourself alive. It’ll take all your time and money, honey you’ll survive…”_

He stood there, staring in shock; it was one of the barmen singing as he cleaned. A small, skinny guy with olive skin and long, curly black hair. He had the most obvious overbite Roger had ever seen and his scent reached Roger across the room; an Omega with a scent of flowers and spices.

_“Well I’ve loved a million women in a belladonic haze and I ate a million dinners brought to me on silver trays…”_

Roger couldn’t help but grin as he felt Brian walk up behind him.

And he joined in. Both of them did.

_“Give me everything I need to feed my body and my soul, and I’ll grow a little bigger, maybe that can be my goal.”_

The Omega stopped singing, staring at Roger and Brian in shock.

“Um...Hi?” he said.

“You’re brilliant,” Roger told him bluntly, barely managing to suppress his excitement. He wanted to jump up and down and cheer, he wanted to run across the room and ask the guy to keep singing. He settled for grinning. “Who taught you to sing like that?”  
  
The Omega (seriously, what was his name? Eddie or something?) shrugged. “No one,” he said with a proud glint in his eyes. “I taught myself.”

Roger looked at Brian who grinned down at him, both thinking the same thing.

They weren’t through yet.

“Do you have a band?” Brian asked.

“No.”

“Do you want one?”

The Omega grinned, hand flying up to hide his teeth. “What, your one?”

“Definitely! Tim just quit, we need a singer. What do you say?”

He looked at them with big brown eyes, curious and hopeful.

“I’m in.”

Roger whooped in glee and Brian held his hand out. “I’m Brian May,” he said.

The Omega shook his hand, grinning without hiding it now. “I’m Freddie Bulsara.”

 

 

 

**1973**

**_“I’ll spread my wings and I’ll learn how to fly. I’ll do what it takes ‘til I touch the sky and I’ll make a wish, take a chance, make a change. And break away.” -Breakaway,_ ** **Kelly Clarkson**

 

They got their big break.

 

When they sold their van to pay for an album, a demo was given to _John bloody Reid._ And he loved it. He wanted to _meet_ them.

 

With Roger Taylor, Brian May and John Deacon by his side, Freddie went to meet the man who managed Elton John. No longer Farrokh Bulsara or even Freddie Bulsara, but Freddie Mercury.

 

And no longer alone, but the frontman of _Queen._

 

Brian May, the tallest of them, towering over the other three, with a mane of curly brown hair and bright hazel eyes. The smartest one too, the designated mother of the group, eternally fussing and checking in on everyone. Sweet, clever Brian, one of the most mellow Alphas that Freddie had ever come across, though he could be a right bitch when he was angry. But he’d always be one of the first to apologise, always tried to approach things logically.

 

Roger Taylor, the typical Alpha in terms of temperament. Explosive, passionate and stubborn, he channeled his energy into making music and defending his friends, those he saw as his pack. He was beautiful to look at, only a little taller than Freddie; he’d been mistaken for a woman more than once with his long golden hair and big baby-blue eyes. But for all his delicate appearance, he was fierce and protective and usually came away the winner in any physical fight. For instance, the time a heckler called John ugly; Roger had jumped off the stage and punched the guy straight in the throat. They weren’t allowed play at that bar anymore, but it was worth it.

 

John Deacon, the sole Beta. Sweet little Deacy, who Freddie just wanted to wrap in a blanket and give cups of tea to. The youngest of them all, with long wavy brown hair and an earnest, sweet smile. His shining green-grey eyes showed endless kindness, but he too was terrifying when crossed. He never used his fists; with words alone he could make you want to curl up and die. But he was also a steady shoulder to cry on, always doing his best to avoid conflict until totally necessary.

 

And Freddie Mercury himself, the sole Omega; the Omega who refused to pretend to be a Beta. Freddie with his bright clothes and flamboyant gestures, his “darlings” and “dears.” Stubborn as all hell when it came to any of his opinions and perpetually late to everything. Like Roger, he was tougher than he looked; he was always prepared to stand up for himself, which took people by surprise. He knew what he looked like, with his great brown eyes and fluffy dark hair. The smallest and skinniest of the four, even Deacy could lift him up.

 

He always strove to make an impression, which was why he turned up to this meeting in a tight blue shirt and tight black jeans, sunglasses with pink lenses and a white jacket with a flared collar, studded with diamonds around the collar and cuffs.

 

“You look like a frilled lizard,” Brian grinned and Freddie kicked him under the table.

 

“I’ve got to make an impression, darling.”

 

“It’s your best look yet,” Deacy joked. “Can I borrow it for Sunday church?”

 

Which of course, was when John Reid joined the table.

 

“So, this is Queen.” His keen eyes roved over them all. “You’re a gifted group of boys, you really are. But tell me- what makes you different from all the other wannabe rock stars I meet every day?”

 

Well that was an easy question to answer. Reid looked to Brian and Roger, the Alphas to answer, but it was Freddie who spoke first.

 

“I’ll tell you: we’re four misfits who don’t belong together, playing to the other misfits at the back of the room who are pretty damn sure they don’t belong either.”

 

Brian smiled with a nod. “We’re family,” he said.

 

“But no two of us are the same,” Roger chimed in.

 

“No one can really label us because no one’s really sure what we are,” Deacy said. He shrugged and smiled at Freddie. “Misfits.”

 

That was when an Alpha walked over and wordlessly handed Reid a cup of tea.

 

“Ah, thank you, Paul.” Reid smiled at them. “Boys, this is Paul Prenter, he’ll be looking after you.”

 

The Alpha, Paul Prenter, was quite handsome; as tall as Brian and much broader, he had light brown hair and deep blue eyes. Dressed simply in a bomber jacket and jeans, he smiled at them all- and then inhaled sharply. His deep blue eyes landed on Freddie.

 

“...It’s Freddie, right?” he asked.

 

His eyes were too keen, too observant; it felt like he was staring right through Freddie’s clothes.

 

“R-right,” he stammered, a sudden shiver running down his spine. Paul continued to stare at him, until another hand reached out and grabbed Freddie’s.

 

Roger.

 

Freddie looked at him; his best friend was staring Paul down, practically snarling. His grip on Freddie’s hand tightened. Everyone else fell silent.

 

“Oh,” Reid said. “I didn’t realise…” His eyes went from Freddie to Roger and back again.

 

“Most don’t.” Roger’s voice was hard, his eyes still glinting furiously. Deacy actually scooted away from him, closer to Brian.

 

 _Oh,_ Freddie realised. Reid and Paul thought that he and Roger…

 

But it worked. Paul wasn’t staring at him anymore and the meeting continued.

 

“Why did you do that?” Freddie asked later as they all went back to their shared flat.

 

“The way he was looking at you made me sick.” Roger was still clearly fuming. “It’s like he was undressing you!”

 

“It was,” Brian agreed.

 

It wasn’t like Freddie was ungrateful; the way Paul had stared had been unnerving to say the least. He was used to being flirted with and flirting back as the mood took him, but there had been something almost _predatorial_ in Paul’s gaze.

 

“Thanks, Roggie,” he said softly, grabbing Roger’s hand and swinging their joined hands as they walked. Roger grinned at him. “I promised,” he reminded him. “I promised I’d look after you.”

  
  
  


**1971** **  
** **_“When you’re through with life and all hope is lost hold out your hand, ‘cause friends will be friends right ‘till the end.” -Friends Will Be Friends,_ ** **Queen**

 

It had been just after the news of the Revolution hit. Just after the news of what befell Stone Town hit.

 

Roger came home to find Freddie sobbing his heart out in his and Deacy’s room. The second he opened the front door he’d heard him sobbing and he ran into the bedroom; Freddie was curled up on his bed practically screaming. For a sickening moment, Roger thought he was seriously injured.

 

“Fred? Freddie, oh my God!” He ran to him, trying to coax Freddie into sitting up, flinging his arms around Freddie’s narrow waist. “Shh, come on mate, it’s alright. _Breathe,_ Freddie, it’s okay. You’re alright, I’m here. I’m right here, I won’t let anything hurt you, I promise.” His hand ran through Freddie’s tangled hair as his best friend continued to sob into his shoulder, shaking and choking on his own breath.

 

He wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, how long it took before Freddie was able to speak, but it felt like hours.

 

“They might be dead,” he’d sobbed. “They might all be dead. Mama and Papa and- and _Kash,_ oh God, Kash might be dead and I don’t _know._ ”

 

It all came out then: how Freddie ran away, how he turned his back on what was expected of him to carve his own path out of life. How he hadn’t heard from his family since he left. And now with the Revolution, with Stone Town aflame, they might all be dead.

 

Freddie had no way of finding out. That was the worst part.

 

Roger knelt there, holding his best friend tightly to his chest. He breathed in the scent of flowers and spices, his shoulder was soaked by Freddie’s tears and he made a decision.

 

Gently, he pulled back and cupped Freddie’s face in his hands, looking him right in the eye.

 

“No matter what happens,” he swore. “No matter what comes our way, I won’t leave you. I’ll never let anyone hurt you; we’re family and I swear, Freddie, I’ll protect you.”

 

Freddie burst into tears again, hiding his face in Roger’s shoulder again. Roger stayed with him; even when he cried himself to sleep, Roger stayed. Even when Deacy and Brian came back, he stayed. Even when Freddie woke up and Brian worriedly tried to get the Omega to join them for dinner, Roger held onto his hand, warm and small in his own.

 

He silently repeated his promise to himself again and again: _protect Freddie._

 

 

 

  
  
  


**BBC studio, 1974** **  
** **_“Everybody’s looking for something. Some of them want to use you. Some of them want to get used by you. Some of them want to abuse you. Some of them want to be abused.” -Sweet Dreams Are Made of This,_ ** **Emily Browning (cover)**

Mary Austin was a sweet girl, very pretty with her strawberry blonde hair and big blue eyes. A Beta with the scent of warm tea and strawberries, she was also more observant than people gave her credit for.

She marched right up to Roger and said, “Paul makes me nervous.”

“He pisses me off,” Roger admitted, giving the fake cymbal another annoyed crash. _Miming._ What a fucking joke.

“He keeps staring at Freddie,” she continued and Roger snapped to attention.

“Again?” he snarled and she nodded.

“He doesn’t like it, he told me so. I just...I thought at least one of you should know and I know _you_ can hold your own.” She twisted her necklace around her fingers nervously. Freddie was off to the side with Deacy, but just beyond them, Roger could see Paul. Sure enough, his eyes were trained on Freddie.

Plenty of people stared at Freddie. He commanded the attention of the room with ease, no matter where he was. But Paul’s stare was nothing like an excited fan’s stare, or his friends’ fond gazes or even Mary’s loving, sisterly smile. There was nothing but lust in Paul’s gaze and it made Roger’s skin crawl. Even when Paul was under the impression that Roger and Freddie were together, he still stared like that.

He was always hanging around Freddie. His touches lingered a little too long, his gaze lingered a little too low and Roger was sick to the teeth of it.

“Thanks for telling me, Mary,” he said and hopped off the stage. He ignored Deacy calling his name and stormed right up to Prenter.

“We need to talk,” he said coldly. Thankfully, Prenter didn’t cause a scene; he nodded and followed Roger to a quiet corner.

“Stay _away_ from Fred,” Roger hissed as soon as they were alone.

Prenter looked down at him. “I don’t mean to cause trouble,” he said. He looked so concerned and apologetic that for a moment Roger almost believed him. Almost.

Roger stood to his full height, fists clenched. Time to act like an Alpha. “He’s _mine,_ ” he snarled.

Prenter smiled lightly, shaking his head. “I thought that at first,” he said. “But I can’t smell you on him at all.”

_Fuck._

The flicker of uncertainty must have shown on his face, because Prenter’s smile grew ever-so-slightly. No one could notice from a distance, but Roger was right in his face and he _saw._

That was when the director called the band to the stage, which was good because Roger was seconds away from punching Prenter in the face and having done with it.

_Killer Queen_ was a smash of course, even when they were miming. But Roger couldn’t help but notice the worried look on Mary’s face; he couldn’t help but notice the hungry way Prenter stared at Freddie as he pranced across the stage, hips swaying to the tune. “You’ll have to make sure no one’s looking at your lips then,” Mary had quipped when Freddie first railed against lip syncing. Laughing, she’d pinched his hip. Freddie had grinned like he’d been issued a challenge- and right now he was winning that challenge. All eyes were on him.

Roger just wished those eyes didn’t include _Prenter’s._

  
  
  


It was a crazy idea. It would freak Freddie out. It’d make him uncomfortable. It was stupid.

He went ahead and asked anyway.

After the BBC they had all gone out and gotten drunk in celebration. Deacy had fallen asleep on the sofa. Brian had managed to find his way to his and Roger’s room, though he’d passed out in _Roger’s_ bed.

By now the alcohol just had him pleasantly buzzing; he was sleepy and content and Freddie was curled up beside him on the floor, leaning on his shoulder. He buried his face in Freddie’s thick hair and breathed deeply, an arm around his best friend’s shoulders. He thought of Paul Prenter’s sharp eyes, his fake apologetic smile; he thought of how tall and broad Prenter was and he looked at Freddie, small and soft, even smaller than Roger himself and he wanted to _break_ something. He imagined Prenter lurking around during Freddie’s next heat and wanted to snap Prenter’s neck. He felt the sudden, illogical need to get up and make absolutely sure the door was locked. To make sure all the windows were locked and the curtains were closed, so that no one could get in or see in, to make sure Paul goddamn Prenter couldn’t hurt Freddie. He’d been hurt _enough._

“Fred?” he asked quietly.

Freddie, only half awake, hummed in response.

“...Prenter wants you,” Roger said, deciding it was best to get on with it. Freddie looked up at him through the thick curtain of his hair and said, “I don’t want him.” It was the answer Roger had expected, but he was still relieved.

“He doesn’t believe we’re going out,” he said and Freddie nodded.

Fuck it.

“I was just...I was thinking…” Fuck this was hard.

“Rog?”

“Can I...Well, what if I mark you? Not _bond_ mark obviously, just...You know, just enough for our scents to mix. Just enough to make him back off.”

Freddie was silent and Roger was about to take it back when Freddie squeezed his hand and asked, “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

He’d made a promise after all.

Freddie nodded and, still tipsy, Roger went for his neck. Freddie pulled back, lightly slapping his arm and hissing, “Deacy’s _right there!_ ”   
  
The Beta was happily snoring away, but Freddie squirmed out of his arms and stood. “Your room then?” Roger asked and, blushing now, Freddie nodded.

The only light in the room came from the street light shining in through the window. The whole apartment was quiet, but the silence was nearly oppressive now. Freddie sat on his bed and after a second’s hesitation, Roger joined him.

“You’re sure about this?” Freddie asked again.

“I wouldn’t offer otherwise.”

“Bri and Deacy will know.”

“Trust me, they’ll be fine with it if it keeps Prenter off you.” Gently, he lay Freddie back. His lips lingered at his neck; he breathed deeply, inhaling the flowers and spices (and alcohol) and asked, “ _You’re_ sure?”

Freddie nodded. “Yes,” he whispered and it was all the confirmation Roger needed.

  
  
  
  


**  
** **_“You’re gonna make it. You’re gonna make it and the night can only last for so long. Whatever you’re facing if your heart is breaking there’s a promise for the ones who just hold on. Lift up your eyes and see the sun is rising.” -The Sun Is Rising,_ ** **Britt Nicole**

Only two days after their appearance on the BBC there was a knock on their front door. They were all gathered in the kitchen for breakfast, all in various states of barely-awake. At the knock they all groaned; it was Brian who got up, stumbling slightly. They could hear a woman talking when he answered the door. It wasn’t Mary, the accent was all wrong. Across from Roger, Freddie tensed. A look of disbelief crossed his face.

“No way,” he muttered, just as Brian shouted for him to come here, _now._

Freddie left the kitchen, leaving Roger and Deacy to look at each other in confusion. Then they heard Freddie _scream_ and ran into the living room.

Standing in the doorway was a young woman neither of them recognised, but she and Freddie were clinging to each other for dear life, sobbing and babbling in Gujarati. Among the incomprehensible words and sobs, Roger heard Freddie say _“Kashmira.”_

It clicked: Kashmira Bulsara, Freddie’s little sister. She was here, alive and well on their doorstep, clinging to her brother like she couldn’t bear to let him go again. She was a petite girl with long black hair and the exact same eyes as Freddie himself. Watching them, Roger was hard pressed not to cry himself. The same couldn’t be said of Brian; he was crying freely, albeit silently.

“My God,” Deacy breathed with the sweetest, happiest smile Roger had ever seen from him.

Kashmira smiled up at Freddie, teary and so unbelievably happy. “Mama and Papa are never going to believe this!” she laughed.

“They’re okay too?” Freddie asked, a frantic edge still in his voice.

Kashmira nodded, gripping her brother’s arms and laughing. “They’ll be so happy to see you! And you were on the _BBC,_ I can’t believe this!”

Roger didn’t think he’d ever seen Freddie so happy; he was grinning openly, not worried about his teeth. His eyes were luminous, joy radiating from him even as he continued to cry.

“Can I see them?” he asked.

“Of course! That’s why I came looking for you!”

Freddie looked around at them and Brian laughed, making shooing motions with his hands. “Go on, we can go without you for a day,” he said and Freddie grinned. Quickly hugging them all he threw his shoes on and, in a whirlwind he was out the door, arm in arm with his little sister.

“I can’t believe it,” Deacy said softly when they were gone.

“Neither can I,” Roger admitted, unable to believe the odds, but so _so_ thankful for it.

And later on, when they met Jer and Bomi Bulsara for themselves, Jer hugged them all with tears in her eyes (eyes just like Freddie’s, dear God, but Freddie really was her spitting image), and thanked them for looking after her son.

  
  
  
  


**Ridge Farm, 1975** **  
** **_“Then tell me, Maria, why I see her dancing there? Why her smoldering eyes still scorch my soul? I feel her, I see her. The sun caught in her raven hair is blazing in me out of all control, like fire. Hellfire. This fire in my skin, this burning desire is turning me to sin.” -Hellfire,_ ** **The Hunchback of Notre Dame**

EMI was full of assholes. Specifically, Ray Foster was an asshole. He always looked to Brian and Roger when he spoke, barely acknowledging Deacy or Freddie. When Freddie spoke he wore a look of faint distaste. He was one of _those_ Alphas, the old fashioned kind that didn’t think Omegas’ opinions mattered.

Screw him.

Freddie still proved his point back in his office, blasting opera and promising Foster an album the likes of which he had never heard.

He intended to deliver.

So here they were, at Ridge Farm, utterly isolated from any and all distractions. It was a large farm with sprawling fields; you could see for miles. The nearest village was little more than two streets, a few shops, a pub and a library, houses and bungalows scattered here and there. It was tranquil, peaceful and- surprisingly- the perfect place to make music.

Away from all distractions they wrote more songs than ever. Some were scrapped, some were never finished, but many turned out better than ever; _39, You’re My Best Friend, Sweet Lady, Seaside Rendezvous…_

Freddie still wasn’t entirely convinced that _I’m In Love With My Car_ wasn’t a joke, but Roger nearly threw the coffee machine in his defence of that song, so whatever. Let him work on it, it made him happy.

As for Freddie, he was currently working on a song called _Love of My Life._ Although he’d later tell the press he had just wanted to write a break-up song, it was technically for Mary; she had requested “something sweet and sad” if he could manage to fit it in and as always, Freddie intended to deliver on his promise.

He was practicing at the piano late at night when Paul walked in, smelling of whiskey.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Freddie asked.

“No, don’t worry about it, I couldn’t sleep.” Paul sat heavily on the sofa. “Mind if I join you?”

Freddie glanced at him warily; he was only wearing his thin pyjamas and suddenly felt very exposed. But Paul hadn't bothered him for weeks now, in fact he'd barely looked at Freddie at all. Maybe Brian was right and he’d lost interest. Still, that didn’t mean Freddie wanted to hang around longer than necessary.

“I...I suppose not.”

He would finish practicing this verse and then go back to his room, he decided. And he did, singing softly, _“Love of my life, you’ve hurt me. You’ve broken my heart and now you leave me. Love of my life, can’t you see? Bring it back, bring it back. Don’t take it away from me because you don’t know what it means to me...”_

“That’s beautiful,” Paul interrupted. “What’s it called?”

Freddie couldn’t help but smile, thinking of how happy Mary would be when she heard the song. “ _Love of My Life._ It’s for Mary.”

“For Mary?” Paul’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were with Roger?”

“Well, yes.” Well, no. “But Mary asked if I could write a love song, so...why not, right?”

“If you say so.” Paul still looked like he didn’t quite believe him. His eyes lingered on Freddie’s neck. If he breathed deeply he’d still just about be able to smell Roger. But only if he breathed deeply. With Roger dating Dominique they’d agreed to lessen the marking and scenting.

They’d forgotten about Paul for the most part. He’d stopped staring at Freddie, stopped looking for excuses to touch him. They’d thought he’d lost interest.

Maybe that was a mistake. No, that _was_ a mistake, because the next thing Freddie knew he had been pinned to the ground by Prenter, who was kissing him furiously. His hands gripped Freddie’s wrists tightly; his knees pushed Freddie’s legs open. Freddie tried to pull away, tried to find a way to push him off with no luck. Paul was so much _bigger_ than him and what use was boxing when he couldn’t move his hands?

It wasn’t until Paul’s lips started to trail down his neck that Freddie drew breath and _screamed._

_“ROGER! BRI, DEACY!”_   
_  
_ “Shut _up_!” Paul hissed, clapping a hand over his mouth. “You don’t get to tease me on stage like that and not expect consequences, you Omega whore.”

His hand was free. He socked Paul in the jaw and Paul grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head onto the floor just as his boys burst into the room.

They took it in in seconds; Freddie groaning in pain on the ground, Paul still on top of him- and with a shout of rage Roger pounced.

He tackled Paul off Freddie, punching and kicking, screaming vows of revenge as Deacy scooped Freddie up in his arms.

“Are you okay, Fred?” Deacy asked frantically. Freddie shook his head and clung to him; sweet, wonderful, _safe_ Deacy. He wiped his hand across his mouth but it was no good, he could still _feel_ it, still taste the whiskey from Paul’s breath, could still feel Paul’s hands on him and he wanted to start screaming again.

“YOU EVER LAY A HAND ON HIM AGAIN AND I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!”

_“ROGER!”_ Brian pulled Roger away, though he couldn’t resist kicking Prenter himself. His expression of fury was almost animal.

“It’s...his own...fault,” Paul gasped. He wiped blood from his lip, glaring at them all, glaring at Freddie. “Fuckin’...Acting like a whore on stage, he brought it on himself.” Freddie couldn’t look away from those hideously furious eyes, hazy with drink but so, _so_ angry, so possessive. “Omegas are meant to shut up and spread their legs when they’re told to,” he spat.

Freddie felt cold all over. He couldn’t even react when Roger tried thrashing out of Brian’s arms, screaming at Paul to burn in hell, to get the hell out of the house, to _die._

Deacy clapped his hands over Freddie’s ears, but what good did that do when Paul’s words echoed in his brain over and over?

  
  
  


They called Reid and their lawyer, one Jim “Miami” Beach straight away. Miami came to collect them, along with Roy, their sound guy and their assistants Chris (Crystal) and Peter (Ratty), right away. Reid came in his own car and pulled Paul aside. Freddie couldn’t hear what was being said but Reid looked furious, sickened, and Paul, starting to sober up, looked abashed.

Not regretful. Just abashed. Like this was a minor embarrassment.

“Come on, we’re going home,” Miami said briskly. He looked down at Freddie worriedly. “You okay, Freddie?”

“Not really,” Freddie admitted.

Roger had yet to let go of his hand. As soon as he had persuaded Brian to let him go he had run to Freddie and flung his arms around him. Every time an Alpha that wasn’t himself of Brian got close to Freddie he started snarling. Brian himself wasn’t much better, constantly checking the bruises on Freddie’s wrists, ensuring Freddie didn't have a concussion and glaring at anyone that wasn’t a member of Queen. Deacy, usually so mild and kind, had his teeth bared in a snarl to rival Roger’s.

Yet for all his anger, Roger seemed diminished. That he would be upset was understandable, but he looked ready to cry when he thought no one was looking.

“Roggie, are you okay?” Freddie asked.

“No,” Roger said quietly. “I didn’t protect you. I left you alone with him.”

“You can’t look after me all the time, Rog.”

“I can try.”

  
  
  


**1978**

**_“We all are living in a dream, but life ain’t wait it seems, oh everything’s a mess. And all these sorrows I have seen, they lead me to believe that everything’s a mess. But I wanna dream. I wanna dream. Leave me to dream.” -Dream,_ ** **Imagine Dragons**

They were all gathered for the Christening of Michael Deacon when it happened.

Freddie had absentmindedly taken a long sip of his wine and immediately looked horrified with himself and spat it back out, wiping his hand over his mouth.

“You alright, Freddie?” Brian asked. Freddie nodded though Roger couldn’t help but notice that he looked a little uncertain. His PA and friend, Peter “Phoebe” Freestone was peering at him worriedly.

“Are you sure? You’ve been a little off colour lately,” Phoebe said- and Mary froze. She stared at Freddie with wide eyes and inhaled sharply. Slowly, a grin spread across her face.

“Oh,” she said softly.

“What?” Roger felt utterly clueless as he stared at the scene before him; Mary beaming, Phoebe with his hands clapped over his mouth, Dominique smirking and Brian grinning fondly- and Freddie’s delicate hands flew to his stomach.

“No fucking way!” Roger laughed and Freddie nodded. His smile was a cautious thing, hopeful and sweet and shy in a way that Roger hadn’t seen in years.

Then Brian asked the fatal question: “Whose is it?”

Freddie’s smile faded. His gaze dropped down to his stomach (still flat, but not for long), and he quietly admitted, “I...I don’t know.”

They all looked at each other worriedly; even Dom knew about Prenter and what he had done, what he had tried to do. They all knew about the horrible words he had spat at Freddie; that Omegas were meant to spread their legs when told to. They all knew how long those words had followed Freddie around, how Prenter had frightened Freddie off relationships of any sort for a long time. How much convincing it had taken for him to keep his stage persona, to not let that bastard put him down.

So Roger reached out and grabbed his hand. “Do you want this kid?” he asked, ignoring Brian’s hissed, _“Roger!”_ He had a point to make. Freddie looked at him steadily. “Yes,” he said and that was that. Roger grinned at him, squeezing his hand.

“Then that’s all that matters,” he said. “That you want it. Fuck everyone else.”

“You’ll be a great dad,” Mary added softly.

“If it’s a girl name it after me,” Dom joked. It lightened the mood thank goodness.

What was even better was the indignant look on Deacy’s face when he realised he was the last to know.

  
  
  


It didn’t last.

About eleven weeks into the pregnancy, Freddie miscarried.

Roger wasn’t there, none of the band were. Freddie had been at home discussing plans for the day with Phoebe when it happened. He didn’t get the call until later that evening.

Freddie didn’t call, Phoebe did. He sounded like he’d been crying (he had) as he quietly explained that Freddie wouldn’t be coming to the studio the next day.

“What’s wrong?” Roger asked, a sudden wave of dread washing over him.

“...He...He miscarried, he’s not in good shape Rog.”

“I’m coming over.”

“Roger, he doesn’t-”

“I’ll see you in a few.”

He briefly explained to Dom where he was going and watched the blood drain from her face.

“Oh God,” she breathed. “Well fuck, hurry over there!”

He did.

The whole drive his mind conjured up horrible images. He turned up the radio full blast, trying to down out his own thoughts, but it didn’t work. The worry was choking him. His best friend just lost his baby. He couldn’t imagine what that must be like. He didn’t want to. And he didn’t want to imagine Freddie crying and bleeding, but his brain wouldn’t _shut up._ He had to get there and check on Freddie himself, to make good on his promise to look after him, because what kind of friend would he be if he ignored this?

He arrived just as Brian and Deacy did.

“Fuck,” was all Brian managed to say. Deacy raced ahead and pounded on the door.

An ashen faced Phoebe opened the door. “He doesn’t want to see anyone,” he said weakly. He looked and sounded exhausted. If that was how he looked, how was Freddie?

“Too bad,” Roger said and elbowed his way inside. Every instinct screamed at him to get to his best friend, to ensure his family was safe; part of his brain howled in anger that he hadn’t been able to protect Freddie, hadn’t been able to prevent this. He was an Alpha, it was his job to protect and provide. Freddie may not have been _his_ Omega in the traditional sense, but he was still _Roger’s._

He was curled up in bed with the curtains drawn. If it wasn’t for his uneven breathing and the occasional broken sob, Roger would have thought he was asleep, he was so still.

“Oh, Fred,” he sighed and hurried over, Brian and Deacy by his side. Brian’s hand rested on Freddie’s shoulder; Deacy brushed his hair off his face, tucking it behind his ear. Roger, as always, wrapped an arm around Freddie’s waist and held him close. Pressed against Roger’s chest, Freddie began to cry in earnest.

“It’ll be okay,” Deacy said quietly.

“But it’s not _now,_ ” Freddie sobbed.

What else could they do but hold onto him and once more swear to be there for him? They couldn’t reverse time, they couldn’t bring his baby back.

He’d been so _excited_ and Roger’s heart broke for him.

It was the last pregnancy Freddie would have for a long time.

  
  
  
  
**New York, 1980** **  
** **_“If I was dying on my knees you would be the one to rescue me and if you were drowned at sea, I’d give you my lungs so you could breathe. I’ve got you,_ ** **_brother.” -Brother,_ ** **Kodaline**

_**** _

Touring was brilliant; always had been and Freddie was sure it always would be. The one thing he hated though, was the press. On tour or off tour, they were invasive assholes.

_**** _

It was always the same questions aimed at Freddie; when would he fix his teeth, when would he settle down, did he see himself with an Alpha, Beta or fellow Omega? He had a promiscuous reputation, how did he avoid pregnancy?

_**** _

He didn’t know how to explain, even to himself, that he was beginning to fear that he _couldn’t_ have children. He’d rather chop his own arm off than ever admit that to the press though.

_**** _

But the fear was there, persistent and ever growing. Because he _was_ promiscuous, he’d never denied it and he wasn’t always safe, he could admit that. And yet, through all the years he’d only gotten pregnant once ( _and look how_ that _ended,_ a voice inside hissed). There’d been a few false alarms here and there, but only ever the one confirmed pregnancy. More than once, he’d allowed a one-night stand to fuck him during his heat. Nothing.

_**** _

Look how long he’d been with David and Joe and yet nothing.

_**** _

He looked at his band mates’ children and just wanted to sit down and cry. Maybe it was selfish to be so jealous, but he was only human too and he _was_ jealous. He watched them ring home on every tour to talk to their wives and bond mates, to ask after their children and something inside him broke every time. He didn’t have that. He didn’t have anything _close_ to that. Relieved as his parents were to find him again they never understood the music business, still didn’t quite understand _him,_ try as they might. Besides, there was a world of difference between ringing your parents to update them on how you were and ringing your spouse and children.

_**** _

For all the papers’ stories about men throwing themselves at his feet, to worship at the altar of Freddie Mercury, he was alone. People loved what they saw on stage. They loved the promiscuous showman, the man who could command the attention of a whole room, the one who pranced about in ridiculous costumes or half-naked. They wanted a quick fuck and bragging rights, they didn’t want _him._

_**** _

_“Omegas are meant to shut up and spread their legs when they’re told to.”_

_**** _

Paul Prenter was long gone from his life but that night still came back in flashes sometimes. For all that Freddie proclaimed that he was an Omega, loud and proud, he still worried that that was all he was seen as; not someone to settle down with, but someone to shag and forget. Or someone to shag and brag about it. Someone you pushed to the side when you were bored with them.

_**** _

He couldn’t keep it in forever, of course he couldn’t. And of course, in the middle of New York, in the middle of a tour, he poured it all out to Roger. How could he not?

_**** _

They were sharing a hotel room, Brian and Deacy next door. Sometime around two in the morning, the other two had staggered, drunk as sailors, back to their room to try and get some sleep. Four in the morning and Freddie and Roger were still going.

_**** _

He didn’t even plan on it, it just came out.

_**** _

“I don’t think I can have kids.”

_**** _

There, he’d said it. No taking it back now.

_**** _

He flipped over, burying his face in the pillow. Roger lay next to him; a hand gently rested on his hair.

_**** _

“What makes you think that?”

_**** _

“You _know_ what. I can’t...I mean, I lost…”

_**** _

“Freddie, mate, that was the once…”

_**** _

“I haven’t always been safe, darling. And...And even when I’ve been in relationships, even when I’m having sex on the regular, I...Nothing ever happens.” His fists tangled in the sheets, he grit his teeth. “I’m just...Fuck, I’m so jealous of you three. And I know that’s not fair of me, but...But Roggie, I am so _so_ tired of being on my own.” Finally, as his voice broke, he admitted it all. “I feel like no one really wants me around.”

_**** _

He blinked in surprise when Roger flipped him over, straddling him and pinning him down. His eyes blazed angrily even as they brimmed with tears.

_**** _

“You listen to me, Freddie: me and Brimi and Deacs will _always_ want you around. We _love_ you, we love you to bits. You’re _ours._ And Mary loves you and Phoebe and you know our kids are batty about you too. We will always, _always_ want you.” He lightly poked Freddie’s neck, right where he’d once left a mark, a mark to keep Prenter and all those like him at arm's’ length. “You’re ours,” he repeated. “You’re _mine,_ you’re pack, you’re _family._ And when the day comes that someone who _deserves_ you comes along- and it _will_ happen- I’ll be the first one crying as you walk down that aisle.”

_**** _

His tears dripped onto Freddie’s face, mingling with his own.

_**** _

For a while, he felt safe; for a while, with his best friend, all the fears melted away.

_**** _

He wished they could melt away _forever._

  
  
  


**London, 1980** **  
** **_“Unsatisfied, I skip my pride. I beg you, dear- don’t go wasting your emotion, lay all your love on me. Don’t go sharing your devotion. Lay all your love on me.” -Lay All Your Love,_ ** **ABBA**

_**** _

He was out with Joe and some of the others when he ran into Jim Hutton for the first time.

_**** _

He turned to walk away from the bar, to head back to the dance floor and knockd straight into the man behind him. Said man spilled his drink all down Freddie’s shirt and his own.

_**** _

“Oh _shit,_ I’m so sorry, dear!” Freddie said as the man let out a wordless yelp of surprise. He was an Alpha, taller than Freddie, a little taller than Deacy; broad, a little chubby actually. Soft brown hair and brown eyes, a mustache rather like Freddie’s own above a pair of soft lips. Even in the crowd, his scent washed over Freddie; a sort of smoky smell with a hint of freshly cut grass underneath.

_**** _

“I think it got you more than it got me,” the Alpha laughed.

_**** _

“At least let me buy you a new one?”

_**** _

The Alpha looked down at him, a kind smile lingering on his lips. “You don’t have to, it was just beer.”

_**** _

“Well I want to.”

_**** _

He really was very handsome when he smiled. Freddie nearly giggled when he realised the man looked a fair bit like Burt Reynolds. He looked Freddie up and down and he braced himself for the usual “Holy fuck, you’re Freddie Mercury!” But it never came. Instead, the unknown Alpha shrugged and said, “Ah fuck it, why not?” (It wasn’t until a week later that it came out that Jim genuinely had no idea who he was. That night, when Freddie introduced himself, Jim only smiled again and offered his name in return.)

_**** _

When he eventually introduced Jim to his friends the reception was pretty much what he expected; Mary was warm and welcoming as always. Brian was perfectly polite and pleasant, Deacy took to him right away, Phoebe and Joe asked a million questions and Roger, although polite, also looked wary.

_**** _

But this time there was no need to be wary; Jim stayed. He was lovely and kind and as stubborn as Freddie with a hidden wicked sense of humour; honest to a fault, he held Freddie like he was afraid of breaking him.

_**** _

And Freddie could honestly say, cross his heart and hope to die, that he was in love.

  
  
  


**Garden Lodge, 1982**

**_“Will you still love me when I’m no longer young and beautiful? Will you still love me when I’ve got nothing but my aching soul? I know you will, I know you will, I know that you will.” -Young And Beautiful,_ ** **Lana Del Rey**

_**** _

It was 1982 when they officially bonded.

_**** _

Jim gave nothing away; it was Joe’s smirks and Phoebe’s excited eyes that tipped Freddie off that _something_ was going on.

_**** _

It wasn’t until they were alone that night after dinner that Jim proposed.

_**** _

They were quietly watching TV, Freddie curled up with his head in Jim’s lap, when Jim’s hand suddenly vanished from his hair. Sleepy and in no mood to move unless strictly necessary, Freddie twisted around to see what he was doing- only to freeze when he spotted the small black box that Jim was pulling out from behind the cushion.

_**** _

“Darling?”

_**** _

“I figured it would have just embarrassed both of us if I did this in public,” Jim said softly and Freddie scrambled to sit up, heart pounding. Because there was no way this was actually happening; he was having a lovely dream and someone would, regrettably, wake him up. But no one woke him up as Jim opened the box, revealing a simple but beautiful diamond ring. No one woke him up because it was real. Jim was actually smiling at him, faintly blushing and saying, “I love you. I feel like I don’t say that enough, but I do. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you and if you’ll have me, I’ll spend the rest of my days trying to make you happy Freddie. Will you marry me?”

_**** _

Tears in his eyes, Freddie flung himself into Jim’s arms.

_**** _

Later that night, Jim bit a bond mark into his neck; even as he knotted him he held Freddie like he was made of glass, like he’d shatter if Jim held on too tightly.

_**** _

“I love you,” Freddie told him and Jim kissed him, running his thumb over the diamond ring.

_**** _

“I love you too.”

  
  
  


**1983**

**_“Yeah you and me we can ride on a star if you stay with me, girl. We can rule the world. Yeah you and me we can light up the sky, if you stay by my side. We can rule the world.” -Rule The World,_ ** **Take That**

_**** _

Roger kept his promise. He was the first one to cry when Freddie walked down the aisle. Next to him Elton was knuckling his eyes and sniffling. Deacy was grinning fit to burst and Brian, though smiling, looked close to tears himself.

_**** _

Freddie looked radiant. It was such a stereotypical thing to say, but he did. He was beaming at Jim the whole time, practically glowing. Dressed in traditional Parsi clothing, swathed in red, gold and white, he made a stark contrast to Jim’s smart black tux. Jim looked down at him like he couldn’t believe Freddie was real, like he was afraid to look away for even a second in case Freddie vanished.

_**** _

Roger quite knew the feeling.

_**** _

In the front row, Jer Bulsara had to keep wiping her eyes. Bomi Bulsara smiled gently through the whole ceremony. Kashmira sat with her husband and daughter, holding her little girl’s hand and grinning.

_**** _

When the moment came for them to kiss, Jim did so with such vigour that he nearly lifted Freddie clear off the ground, unusual for a man who usually blushed when Freddie held his hand in public. But Freddie was laughing, holding on to Jim like he’d never let him go and Roger grinned through his tears, clapping with all the rest.

_**** _

“They’re perfect together,” Elton said softly and Brian nodded in agreement.

_**** _

“They are,” Roger said. He’d already given the shovel talk long ago. He’d already acted like the over-protective Alpha, done the whole song and dance and gotten Jim’s intentions out of him and, to his own surprise, heartily approved of the quiet, gentle Alpha. For once, Roger wholly believed that Freddie wouldn’t be hurt. If anyone was going to look after him, it was Jim. If anyone was going to protect him, it was Jim. If anyone could understand just how special Freddie Mercury was, it was Jim Hutton.

  
  
  


**1987**

**_“Out of the shadows the morning is breaking and all is new, all is new. It’s filling up the empty and suddenly I see that all is new, all is new. You are not alone. You are not alone. You are not alone.” -You Will Be Found,_ ** **Dear Evan Hansen**

_**** _

“This new exercise regime is a load of bollocks, my dears,” Freddie proclaimed as he flopped onto the sofa in the recording studio. “Honestly, I’ve followed it to the letter, I cut back on all the sweets and yet I seem to be _gaining_ weight.”

_**** _

“Maybe you’re pregnant,” Crystal joked and winced when Roy kicked him.

_**** _

But Freddie still went still as a statue and bit his lip, looking highly uncomfortable.

_**** _

“Couldn’t be,” he said, though his voice wavered.

_**** _

“Everyone out, band meeting,” Brian proclaimed briskly. The others looked at him uncertainly and he clapped his hands together. _“Out,”_ he repeated and Crystal, Ratty, Roy and Miami all left, though Miami threw Freddie a worried glance on his way out.

_**** _

“Fred?” Deacy sat next to him. “You alright?”

_**** _

“I couldn’t be pregnant,” Freddie said again. He shook his head. “I can’t have kids.” He looked as vulnerable as he had all those years ago; uncertain eyes, those ever-delicate hands on his stomach. He had shaved his mustache for _The Great Pretender_ and combined with his curls starting to grow back it only served to make him look younger, to remind all of them of...of last time.

_**** _

“You...You never did get that confirmed by a doctor,” Brian reminded him gently. “Have you missed any heats?”

_**** _

“Well I missed the last one,” Freddie admitted. “But that’s not too unusual, Brimi, that’s happened before. You _know_ that.”

_**** _

Roger looked at him and breathed deeply; there was the usual flowers and spices, the flowers and spices he had never quite been able to put names to. There was Jim’s scent of smoke and grass, strongest at the bond mark on Freddie’s neck. But there was something else. The same _something else_ that had lingered all those years ago, the same _something else_ that had lingered on Dominique and Veronica and Chrissie, that lingered on all their Omega friends...when they were pregnant.

_**** _

And Freddie’s scent was stronger than usual, just like it had been back then too.

_**** _

Throwing caution to the wind (because he wasn’t about to say something when he was still next to the door for God’s sake, he might be _wrong_ ), he marched over, buried his face in Freddie’s neck and took the deepest breath he could _._

_**** _

It was all there; the flowers and spices, the smoke and grass, so much stronger than usual, but right there, lingering underneath was the _something else,_ something soft and fresh smelling, the same smell that had indeed lingered on every pregnant person they’d come across. The type of gentle, soft scent that brought babies to mind, designed to remind Alphas to protect their Omegas and their babies. The type of gentle scent that proclaimed to the world that you were expecting, that you were to be protected while you protected the life growing inside you. If you smelled it even once you didn’t forget it, especially if it was on a member of your family.

_**** _

Oh fuck. Oh fuck, oh fuck, he was _right._

_**** _

“Roggie!” Freddie pushed him off, cheeks flushed- and froze when Roger met his gaze. Almost against his will, Roger’s fingertips grazed Freddie’s stomach. He barely registered Deacy’s gasp or Brian’s sharp inhale. Could they smell it to? Or did the look on his face just give it away?

_**** _

“I’m not,” Freddie repeated, but Roger cupped his face, forcing him to keep eye contact.

_**** _

“I think...I think you’d better get a test, Fred.”

  
  
  


They cancelled the rest of the day. Ignoring Miami’s concerned enquiries, they all went to Garden Lodge. Jim would be at work until five and Phoebe was out with friends, enjoying a well deserved day off. Joe was God knew where. Other than the cats they had total privacy.

_**** _

Speaking of the cats they were acting _weird._ Delilah prowled around Freddie’s ankles, hissing at anyone who came near. When he lifted her, she lightly headbut his chest and purred away happily. Romeo followed Freddie like his life depended on it, even taking a swat at the other cats when they got close. Tiffany, usually so anti-social, sat much closer to Freddie than usual. Oscar, the grumpy bastard, curled up on the top of the sofa, right behind where Freddie sat and even _purred._ Miko was sitting on Deacy’s lap, but her eyes were on Freddie. The same went for Lily. Although she was sitting on the coffee table, her eyes were trained on Freddie and she meowed pitifully whenever he left her sight. Goliath, usually so timid, took a swing right back at Romeo, darted around him and sat by Freddie’s feet.

_**** _

Well fuck if that didn’t help confirm it. How hadn’t Freddie _noticed?_

_**** _

But really, Roger couldn’t blame him. He was convinced he couldn’t have children and life hadn’t exactly proven him wrong. So many false alarms, the miscarriage he had never forgotten. He still remembered how Freddie had been convinced that he could have done _something_ to prevent it, how he had been convinced that he’d done something wrong, that the fault lay with him. He wouldn’t listen to anyone’s explanations that these things just _happened._ And after that, after all the years of _nothing,_ that conviction had grown in his mind; he’d been utterly convinced that he’d done something wrong and then convinced that he was just barren. He’d given up. Of _course_ he hadn’t realised. It would be the last thing to cross his mind.

_**** _

And looking at him now, it was clear he still didn’t believe it.

_**** _

“This is a waste of our time, darlings,” he said. He was pacing up and down, Delilah in his arms. By now they’d moved to his and Jim’s room; the cats all followed and all of them watched Freddie from the bed, the floor, the chairs, the windowsills. Deacy absentmindedly pet Lily, but his eyes were on the _four_ pregnancy tests on the bedside table. Not one, not two, not three, but four. Freddie was taking no chances of another false alarm- and Brian had pointed out that taking more than one would be a good idea anyway. He’d had two in mind. Trust Freddie to go all out.

_**** _

But again, Roger couldn’t blame him.

_**** _

Brian’s eyes were trained on his watch. His exhaled shakily and said, “Time’s up.”

_**** _

Reluctantly it seemed, Freddie placed Delilah on the bed. He walked to the bedside table- and then walked away, face buried in his hands.

_**** _

“I can’t, I can’t do it, I can’t look.”

_**** _

Immediately Roger was by his side, arm around his waist like always.

_**** _

“Do you want one of us to look?” he asked and Freddie nodded. Roger, arm still around Freddie, looked to the other two.

_**** _

It was Deacy who got up to check. His face was totally impassive and for a moment Roger’s heart sank, because _not again,_ this wasn’t _fair,_ his best friend deserved better than this, what kind of sick world would do this to him _again?_

_**** _

Then Deacy turned to them, grinning with tears in his eyes.

_**** _

“They’re positive.”

_**** _

Freddie tensed in Roger’s arms; his head snapped up so quickly Roger was sure he heard something crack and all he could manage was an incoherent, “Huh?”

_**** _

“They’re positive. All four of them.”

_**** _

Freddie was across the room in a flash. When he saw the results for himself, he let out a choked sob. One hand covered his mouth, the other was on his stomach, gripping his shirt so hard it might tear.

_**** _

“Aren’t you happy?” Brian asked cautiously.

_**** _

Freddie nodded, but when he looked at them he was pale and teary eyed.

_**** _

“What if...What if it’s just like last time?”

_**** _

“Don’t think like that.” Brian had him by the shoulders, face suddenly hardened with the need to _protect._ Because Freddie was family, he was pack, he was _theirs_ and of all people, the two Alphas in the room would _not_ let anyone hurt him, especially not now.

_**** _

They couldn’t promise it would be fine. But they could be there.

_**** _

For all Roger’s promise to protect Freddie he had never quite felt like he lived up to it; he remembered Paul Prenter pinning Freddie to the ground, he remembered the press spreading awful rumours, he remembered the miscarriage, he remembered being able to do nothing when Freddie thought his family may be dead. He hadn’t been able to look after him when it counted, that was what it had always felt like. But now? Well, he still couldn’t promise a happy outcome, but he could be there no matter what happened. If there was anything he could do to make this easier, he’d do it.

_**** _

The four of them clung together, all four smiling and near tears. Roger’s fingers lightly grazed Freddie’s stomach again, still flat but- _hopefully-_ not for long.

  
  
  


**_“You’re all that I’ve been yearning for. I love you, I adore you. I lay my life before you. I only want you more and more. And finally it seems my lonely days are through. I’ve been waiting for you. Ooohh. I’ve been waiting for you.” -I’ve Been Waiting For You,_ ** **ABBA**

**  
**

He was so scared to tell Jim.

He didn’t say anything when Phoebe or Joe got home. He had sent the boys home, promising he could handle telling Jim by himself.

_‘He’ll love you no matter what. He loved you when you both thought you couldn’t have children. Even if you lose this one, he’ll still love you.’_ He had to keep reminding himself of those facts otherwise he might just ring the boys and ask them to come back over. He could do this. He had to do this.

Joe squinted at him and Freddie stuck his tongue out. “Lovie, I know I’m gorgeous, but quit staring,” he said. Joe only tilted his head.

“You...You smell different,” he said and Freddie wanted to curse him out, because there was no way Joe had copped it. Not before he could tell Jim.

“Different how?”

“I dunno...Stronger. You feeling alright?”

“I’m alright, honey, promise.”

He couldn’t even blame Joe for looking suspicious, or Phoebe for looking so worried. He knew how pale he looked; one look in the mirror showed him how tired he looked, how his eyes were still a little red. Really the obvious options were either that he’d been crying or that he was ill.

Well, he had been crying, just a bit. But for a good reason this time.

It took everything he had not to blurt it out the second Jim came in. All the same, Freddie couldn’t stop himself from running into Jim’s arms and clinging to him.

“Well that’s a warm welcome,” Jim laughed. Freddie only continued to cling to him, his cheek resting on his husband’s shoulder. How was he meant to say it anyway? Were you meant to just say it casually or have a dramatic reveal? Should he tell them all together or just Jim now and tell the others tomorrow? What the hell was expected of him?

Then he looked into Jim’s eyes, filled with love and warmth and slowly felt himself begin to relax. This was _Jim._ Freddie could tell him anything. Jim Hutton always made him feel braver.

“I have something to show you,” Freddie said. His hand was engulfed by Jim’s as he led him upstairs.

“Promising.”  


“It’s not sex.” Freddie couldn’t help but laugh, because maybe he could have phrased that better and _oh,_ thank God for Jim, who always knew how to calm him down whether he realised it or not.

He’d left the tests wrapped in one of his old silk scarfs on the bed. He hadn’t been able to think of what else to do.

“The um, the scarf...You’d better pick it up.”

Jim looked understandably confused- but that confusion turned to awe when he lifted the scarf and the tests fell out. When he saw the four positives, he slowly started to grin. Turning to Freddie, he softly asked, “Really?

It was so stupid to feel like crying again, but hope was beginning to grow in his chest and he was torn between laughing and crying, his eyes beginning to water again. Smiling, he nodded.

“You’re really...But I thought you couldn’t…?”

“I still don’t know if...if it’ll end well, darling, but…”

Instantly, Jim was across the room and had pulled Freddie into his arms, kissing him. “It’ll be fine,” he swore. “It’ll be more than fine. _Fuck,_ Fred, you’re _pregnant._ ” His hands went down to Freddie’s stomach; his smile was blinding. “There’s a baby in there. _Our_ baby’s in there.”

With Jim smiling like that he couldn’t bear to spoil it. He pushed his fears away and held onto his husband, silently praying it would all go _right_ this time.

_‘Please,_ please _be okay in there. Please stay safe.’_

 **  
**  
  


**Seven months later…**

An invitation to Jim’s niece’s wedding arrived in the mail. Bridget Hutton was getting married and of course her uncle was invited, but Jim looked at Freddie with worried eyes.

“The doctor said travelling would be a bad idea so late in the pregnancy,” he pointed out. “We can’t go.”

Freddie, lying on the bed, pushed himself up. He tried to hide his wince as he did, because if he was honest everything _hurt._ He’d been prepared for the morning sickness and he _thought_ he’d been prepared for the backaches- and the leg aches and foot aches and headaches. He thought he’d been prepared for how little energy he had, but no. It was definitely worse than he’d expected. He didn’t remember any of his friends feeling so lousy, but then again maybe they’d just kept quiet about it.

“ _We_ can’t go, but _you_ can,” he said patiently.

“I can’t just leave you on your own!”

“Darling, the baby still won’t be due for another _month_ by the time of the wedding- and I won’t _be_ alone, Phoebe and Joe are here and Mary’s right down the road. I’ll be _fine._ ” It had taken a long time, but he eventually started to believe it; he’d be fine. The fear never quite went away. He’d had more than one nightmare of looking down to find blood gushing down his legs and woken up in terror each time. But eventually, he started to believe what his friends and family were constantly telling him; he’d be fine. The baby would be fine. The latest scan confirmed she was okay in there, healthy as could be.

She. Freddie still couldn’t quite believe it. They actually knew what they were having because he’d gotten far enough along in his pregnancy to find out. And despite how exhausted he was, despite how sore he was, despite how sick he felt, he still felt _happy,_ truly getting excited. He wouldn’t feel totally safe until she was there in his arms, but until then he could do his best to push all those fears away; to ignore them for a while and join his husband in planning how to decorate the nursery (Jim insisted on making the furniture himself), what colours to pick, what theme and then there was the endless debate on who should be godparents.

_‘It’ll be fine,’_ he told himself as the baby kicked yet again.

It _had_ to be fine.

 **  
**  
  


**November 16th, 1987**

**_“Hold on to this lullaby, even when the music’s gone...Gone...Just close your eyes, the sun is going down. You’ll be alright, no one can hurt you now. Come morning light, you and I’ll be safe and sound.” -Safe And Sound,_ ** **Taylor Swift**

 **  
**  


He’d been feeling off since he woke up. He couldn’t explain it, he just felt like he was waiting for something to happen.

His stomach began to hurt after lunch, but he’d brushed it off; he always felt sick after eating now.

But then, after they finished recording for the day it happened. There was a sudden, sharp, _stabbing_ pain and he doubled over with a groan just as water gushed to the floor.

“Oh,” Deacy said softly.

Oh God he never should have relaxed, he never should have let himself believe everything would be okay because it was _too early,_ it was a whole month too early, this couldn’t end well, this wasn’t _right,_ how could he have been so goddamn _stupid_ as to let himself believe he could do this?

“Freddie, we’ve got to get to the hospital,” Brian said, grasping his arm.

“But it’s too early,” Freddie had gasped as the pain grew.

“Try telling her that.” Brian began ushering them all from the studio, calling for Miami to call Jim and tell him what was happening. It made Freddie want to scream because suddenly all he wanted was his husband but he’d been daft enough to send him to Ireland and _now_ look what was happening.

Roger drove like a madman and Deacy murmured words of comfort for the whole drive, the same as Brian, but Freddie couldn’t focus on what they were saying. All he could focus on was how early it was, a whole month too early and surely he had messed up again somehow? Maybe he should have taken a break and stayed home, maybe if he’d put his body under less stress this wouldn’t be happening until it was _supposed_ to.

It hurt so _much._

He wanted Jim, oh God, he just wanted Jim, but he wasn’t _here_ and the midwife was suddenly there, pulling him away from his bandmates and he couldn’t do this alone, he _couldn’t._ He turned around frantically and his eyes locked with a worried pair of big baby-blues. He didn’t even have to say anything: Roger rushed forward and grabbed his free hand, quickly explaining to the doctors that he’d stand in for Jim. Freddie wanted to tell him how thankful was he but all he could do was groan through the pain, trying not to scream now.

He wasn’t alone though, he should have known Roger wouldn’t leave him alone, he never had.

But nothing could distract him from how much it _hurt._ All he could do was scream as he tried to focus on what the midwife was telling him. He was probably going to break poor Roggie’s hand with how hard he was gripping it, but he couldn’t focus on anything but the pain, growing and growing and yet the baby wasn’t coming.

“You have to push harder, Freddie,” Roger said and Freddie fell back, exhausted and sobbing.

“I _can’t,_ I can’t do it, Roggie.”

“You can,” Roger told him firmly. “I _know_ you can, Freddie. You can do anything.”

Right. He was Freddie fucking Hutton. He could do this. He had to.

He didn’t remember the baby arriving. He didn’t remember the great wave of blood, or his daughter’s growing cries, or the alarms, or Roger screaming his name. All he remembered was how the pain was suddenly so much worse until it was all that existed in his world; just him and a sea of unending pain and he _couldn’t breathe._ He barely registered Roger’s hand being torn from his own as he lay there bleeding. He couldn’t keep his eyes open for more than a couple of seconds, he couldn’t hear anything over the dull ringing in his ears. After all the pain it was almost a relief to float away, to let the dark envelope him.

_‘I didn’t get to see her,’_ Freddie thought and he slipped away into the blessed dark and quiet.

 **  
**  
  


They still didn’t know what was happening when Jim arrived.

He came racing down the corridor, excitement and concern written all over his face. He froze at the sight of the three of them, huddled together, pale and crying.

“What’s going on?” he demanded. “Where’s Freddie? How is he? How’s the baby?”

“We don’t know,” Brian admitted, his voice small and broken. Roger just stared straight ahead, still hearing Freddie screaming, still seeing the blood. Next to him Deacy let out another little sob, but otherwise stayed silent. It was down to Brian, poor, dear, steadfast Brian to explain what had happened and how they had been left to wait here for news. They didn’t know how Freddie was. They didn’t know how the baby was.

Jim fell to his knees; the cry that escaped him was almost animal, a wordless, helpless cry. Brian went to him but Roger stayed frozen.

_You didn’t protect him, you didn’t protect him, you didn’t_ protect _him and this might be it, he might be dying, he might be_ dead.

Freddie, the kindest, most dramatic and ridiculously loving person he knew might be dead. What was he supposed to do if Freddie died? What were _any_ of them supposed to do if Freddie died? He was one of a kind, there’d never be another person like him as long as Roger lived and maybe not even in another lifetime. And for all that Roger had tried to convince Freddie there was nothing he could have done differently after his miscarriage, Roger found himself falling into the same trap now; surely there was something he could have done differently? Surely he could have done something to keep his best friend safe? He had fought off so many people that weren’t good enough to kiss the dirt Freddie walked on, so why wouldn’t he protect him _now?_ Why not now, when it mattered the most? Jim was sobbing on the ground while Brian and Deacy tried to calm him down and all Roger could do was sit and stare the wall.

If Freddie didn’t make it they’d have to tell Jer and Bomi. They’d have to tell Kash. They’d have to tell Phoebe and Joe. They’d have to tell Miami. They’d have to tell _Mary,_ and Roger knew that poor girl would never forgive herself if Freddie slipped away and she wasn’t here, but he couldn’t bring himself to get up and call her.

Oh _God._

If that baby girl was okay, if she lived she’d never know her dad. He’d just be a photograph on the mantle and stories they told. Would he even seem real to her, or would he just be as insubstantial as smoke and daydreams to her?

If Freddie didn’t make it they’d have to tell the _whole world._

And then, finally, after hours and hours, an exhausted doctor stood before them. He was smiling.

“He’ll be okay.”

Three little words that threw Roger into a fit of hysterical sobs.

Freddie was okay. He was _okay._ He was going to live. He was going to live to see her daughter grow up, because if Roger was hearing correctly she was okay too.

He followed as though in a dream as they were led to the nursery. He watched, barely believing what he was seeing as the doctor led Jim in, towards a cot in the back. A tiny baby girl, wrapped in a pink blanket lay there, bawling her head off. Jim picked her up with the utmost reverence, awe and complete love on his face. He was crying again, but grinning wider than Roger had ever seen. He said something to the doctor- and then began to walk to the nursery door, the baby in his arms.

“Boys,” he said when he emerged. “This is Maeve. Maeve Primrose Hutton.”  


“Oh, Jim, she’s _beautiful,_ ” Deacy gasped.

She was. She was tiny; darker than Jim but paler than Freddie with pink cheeks and a button nose. She had a thick thatch of fluffy black hair and when she peered up at them, letting out one last gulping cry, Roger saw that she had massive brown eyes.

Just like Freddie’s.

Part of him wanted to blame her for this; if Freddie didn’t have her he’d be up and about right now, fighting fit.

But when he saw her he’d be so happy. She was just a baby. She hadn’t done anything wrong, so how could Roger blame her?

“Hi, Maeve,” Brian said gently. He ran a careful finger down her cheek. “We’ve been worried about you.”

 **  
**  
  


It wasn’t until the next day that Freddie woke up.

Jim, Jer and Bomi were with the baby; Mary, Brian, Kash and Deacy had gone to get coffee. Roger had stayed with Freddie. As soon as the nurse left the room, Roger got off the rickety plastic chair and lay on the narrow bed with Freddie. He slipped an around around Freddie’s shoulders so that Freddie’s head rested on the crook of his neck. Freddie was still too pale, but he was stable, breathing in and out in and out…

“R-Roggie?”

_“Fred!”_

His eyes were open, those beautiful brown eyes that broke hearts all the world over. Smiling up at Roger, the sweet and shy smile he knew so well.

Roger was sobbing into Freddie’s hair, crushing him to his chest, his very best friend, that small Omega who could control a crowd of thousands with his voice alone. The best singer he’d ever heard, accidentally discovered in a bar on a night that had gone tits up. One of only two witnesses to Roger’s wedding. Freddie who once hopped on a bloke twice his size for throwing his drink in Roger’s face. Freddie, who stood up for himself no matter what, loud and proud or quiet and tenacious. His sweet, shy, _beautiful_ best friend. All Roger had ever wanted was to protect him, especially when it seemed that no one else was willing to.

He’d nearly died. _Nearly._ Typical of Freddie to pull through.

“Don’t you _ever_ scare me like that again,” Roger sobbed. “Don’t you fucking do that to me, Fred, don’t you dare.”

“Is she okay?” God he still sounded so tired. “Roggie, _is she okay?_ ”

“She’s fine.” He was half laughing, half sobbing. “She’s perfect.”

“As beautiful as her Papa.”

Roger turned to see Jim standing in the doorway, beaming, baby Maeve in his arms. She was wide awake, not crying for once, just staring about her with wide eyes.

“I thought she ought to say hello,” Jim continued. “Think she’s been missing you.”

The look on Freddie’s face could only be described as angelic. If he was glowing at his wedding then he was shining now. His eyes didn’t leave his baby’s face as Jim approached, a little huff of disbelief escaping him.

“I’ll leave you to it,” Roger said, squeezing his hand. Freddie squeezed back, Jim shot him a grateful smile and Roger made his exit, shooting one last smile over his shoulder. He closed the door behind him just as Jim passed Maeve to Freddie.

 **  
**  
  


He thought he’d cry. He had expected to he’d cry when his baby was handed to him, but he didn’t. He couldn’t stop grinning at her, his eyes rapidly taking in her every feature; the big eyes, the flushed cheeks, the little button nose and starfish hands.

“Hello, darling,” Freddie said softly. She gazed up at him, tiny and so utterly perfect. He thought he’d known what love was before, but _this?_ This was unreal. He thought he couldn’t love anyone more than he loved Roger, Brian and Deacy, then Jim came along. Then he thought he couldn’t love anyone more than Jim, but now...Now he was lost, his heart given over entirely. It didn’t belong to him anymore, it belonged to the little girl in his arms. Maeve Primrose Hutton, the child he’d given up on having was right there in his arms.

“She’s beautiful.”

“She is,” Jim agreed. His hand ran through Freddie’s hair and he seemed incapable of looking away from the baby. The same went for Freddie; he’d look at Jim for a second and then look right back to Maeve.

They were quiet for some time before Jim said, “Shall I go get everyone?”

And Freddie nodded, eyes still on Maeve.

When they were alone, Freddie spoke; “I...I have no idea what will happen next, honey. But I promise, I’ll do whatever I can to keep you safe and happy, okay? I love you _so much._ It took a lot of work to get you here so...So you’d better stay. You stay put and I’ll handle the rest. Deal?”

Her tiny hand clasped his finger and Freddie laughed as Roger came back in.

“Alright?” his best friend asked. Stubborn, fierce and so overprotective; dear, silly Roggie who cried first at his wedding, who had a way of reminding Freddie how to be brave even when he didn’t want to be anymore.

“Perfect,” Freddie answered.

Just like he had in 1964, Freddie made the silent decision to face to the future head on. To face whatever life threw at him with a grin. He repeated his old promise to himself, to just live _freely._

Only, he wasn’t alone this time.

“Hey, Rog?”

“Yeah, Freddie?”

Freddie grinned up at him. “Thank you.”

Roger, ever the oblivious one, frowned in confusion. “For…?”

“For looking after me. You always do.” He laughed. “And I don’t make it easy.”

Something in Roger’s stance relaxed then, tension draining from him as he squeezed Freddie’s shoulder. “Maybe not. But it’s worth it.”

“Hm. I was thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“How about we just promise to look after each other instead? None of the Alpha protecting the Omega rubbish. We can both protect each other.”

Roger grinned right back, reclaiming his place on the God-awful plastic chair. _Orange,_ honestly, what were they thinking?

“Sounds good to me, Fred.”

“Rog?”

“Hm?”

“I love you, darling.”

A huffed laugh, a poke to his temple. “Love you too.”

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**  
  


**_“Long live the walls we crashed through, how the kingdom lights shine just for me and you. I was screaming ‘long live’ all the magic we made and bring on all the pretenders, I’m not afraid. Long live all the mountains we moved, I had the time of my life fighting dragons with you. I was screaming ‘long live’ the look on your face and bring on all the pretenders. One day we will be remembered.” -Long Live,_ ** **Taylor Swift**

 **  
**  
  


**Author's Note:**

> And that's it! Honestly I had to cut so much out or it would have gone on forever. Maybe one of these days I'll post some deleted scenes.
> 
> Roger will fight anyone.  
> Freddie is an actual ray of sunshine.  
> Deacy is a salt pit. Precious, but a salt pit.  
> Brian is not paid enough for this.
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you think in the comments and thanks for reading! ^_^


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